“What are you doing here at this time of day?” Harriet asked Lauren as she sat down opposite her at the computer table in the Steaming Cup.
“I’m trying to work.”
Harriet picked up her frappuccino.
“I can move.”
“Sit down. It’s not you. I’m done doing anything productive anyway. For reasons unknown, the boat sales people below my apartment are working on a motor in the parking lot. They have a repair shop out on Miller Hill so why they’re working in the parking lot today I’ll never know. It involves a lot of motor revving, which makes it impossible for me to work. I put my earphones on, but I could feel the vibration, and I swear I could hear it a little bit, too.”
“Hopefully, it’ll only be for today.”
“They better be done when I get home. Enough about me, what are you doing out and about?”
“Catching up on everything I put off while I was doing those quilts. My car’s in the shop, my dining room drapes are at the cleaners, I picked up Scooter’s prescription dog food, took my cans to the recycling depot…need I go on?”
“Sounds awful.”
“It felt good to get some things done. I started the day at my aunt’s. I’ve got her car while my brakes are being fixed. Anyway, she told me a little more about Leo Tabor.”
“The pedophile who was run out of town on a rail?”
“Yeah, only Aunt Beth says that Avanell told her things were not as they seemed. She didn’t tell her what, but she was on Leo’s side. Then she said apparently, Leo had found Amber wandering the neighborhood on numerous occasions and finally took her to the police when she was out on the main road by herself.”
Lauren picked up her coffee and took a sip.
“So, maybe she was run over?”
“Yeah, that was my thought. Amber is killed, Molly gets knocked out, someone gets scared and covers it up.”
“It’s still bad, but not nearly the sort of bad Molly is thinking.”
Lauren tapped a few keys on her laptop.
“I did a little digging on him after we talked last time.”
She turned the computer around so Harriet could see her notes on the screen.
“He came back to Foggy Point. He and his wife worked overseas for six years—she’s a teacher, and they both taught English in Thailand. Looks like they rented their house out and then moved back in when they came back. It appears they’re retired now.”
“Aunt Beth thought he might be willing to talk to us if we approached it right.”
Lauren smiled.
“You know I’m the soul of tact. As my mother always said, ‘a closed mouth gathers no foot.’ Speaking of which, don’t turn around, but the happy couple just walked in and headed to a corner table.”
“Which happy couple?”
“Molly and her published poet.”
Harriet rolled her eyes to the ceiling and blew out a breath.
“Are you free now? If you are, maybe we can swing by Leo’s and see what he thinks about the accident theory.”
“I’m done here.”
“Let’s get out of here before Molly notices us. I don’t think I can do another ‘No, I haven’t found out anything yet’ conversation.”
Leo Tabor lived in an older, well-kept yellow house with a small front yard bordered by landscaped flowerbeds. A white picket fence extended on either side of an arched, gated entry. Harriet lifted the latch and led the way to the covered porch.
A chubby balding man dressed in khaki work clothes opened the door when she knocked.
“Can I help you?”
“My name is Harriet Truman, and this is my friend Lauren Sawyer. We’re friends of a woman named Molly Baker, and she’s asked us to look into an incident that happened when she was a small child.”
Leo—Harriet assumed that’s who he was—stiffened, and his jaw muscles tightened. He slid his hand to the doorknob.
“My aunt, Beth Carlson, suggested we talk to you. She is…was a friend of Avanell Jalbert,” she said in a rush.
At the mention of Avanell’s name, Leo relaxed slightly but kept his hand on the doorknob.
“What is it you want from me?”
Harriet took a deep breath. She knew if she didn’t word things just right, he would slam the door in her face, and that would be the end of any cooperation from him.
“Aunt Beth told us that Amber was in the habit of wandering the neighborhood unaccompanied. She said you’d even called the police about it.”
Leo’s shoulders sagged.
“Would you like to come in?” he asked and held the door open.
Harriet looked at Lauren and, seeing no objection, went inside.
“Wow,” she said as her eyes adjusted to the light. Quilts were draped over the backs of the sofa, the side chairs, and hung on a multi-quilt display rack. Most were Baltimore Album style and appeared to have been hand-quilted. On one wall, there were Mola-style reverse-appliqué pieces.
“My wife Janet is a quilter.”
“I’m surprised I haven’t seen any of her work at the local shows.”
“Would you like some iced tea or lemonade?” He looked at them and they both nodded.
“Lemonade would be nice,” Lauren said and Harriet nodded her agreement.
“Janet is working in the back garden. I’ll go get her.”
Lauren stepped closer to the display rack.
“These are incredible. The hand stitching is so uniform.”
Harriet joined her for a closer look.
“Would you believe I stab stitch?” a woman said from a doorway that led to the back of the house. “I’m Janet.”
She held her hand out to Harriet, who took it. Janet’s handshake was firm but not painfully so. She nodded to Lauren, who was standing a few paces behind Harriet.
“You’re Beth Carlson’s niece, yes?” Harriet nodded, and Janet looked past her to Lauren. “I’m sorry, but I don’t think we’ve met.”
“I’m Lauren Sawyer. Harriet’s friend.”
Harriet gestured to the quilt display box and then the wall.
“These are beautiful. I’m surprised we haven’t seen your quilts in any of the local shows.”
Leo came back from the kitchen carrying a tray with frosty glasses of lemonade.
“That would be because of me.”
“Now, Leo.” Janet smiled as he turned to look at her. “I was there, too.”
He handed her a glass of lemonade then offered glasses to Harriet and Lauren.
“Sit down, make yourselves comfortable.” He moved a couple of throw pillows off the sofa, clearing more space. He and Janet sat in matching overstuffed chairs opposite the sofa.
“I might as well tell you my story. It will make things easier to understand.”
Harriet caught herself before she leaned forward. She took a deep breath and tried to relax.
“It all started in nineteen-sixty-seven. ‘The Summer of Love,’ as it was called. I was eighteen and on my own for the first time. I lived in San Francisco and worked for the parks department, picking up garbage. I was to start college in the fall.”
Janet picked up the story.
“And I was fourteen going on thirty, a booster child in a family of over-achievers born ten years after my youngest brother. My parents lived in Redwood City and worked in what would become the high-tech industry.”
“My parents were Marin County liberals,” Leo interjected.
Janet continued.
“My parents thought I was going to the library to study when I was really going down to Haight-Ashbury, telling people I was eighteen and calling myself Sunshine. I followed some people to Golden Gate Park. Jefferson Airplane, Grateful Dead, Big Brother and the Holding Company—they were all there playing music. Lots of people were high on drugs.
“A small group of people were taking their clothes off. They started trying to rip clothes off of the people standing around them, and I was in their line of sight. I was wild, for a fourteen-year-old, but I wasn’t ready for that.”
Leo set his glass down.
“I saw that Janet was scared, so I stepped in and put my arm around her like she was my old lady. They backed off, and we walked away from the gathering.”
Janet’s eyes twinkled.
“He was my knight in shining armor. We talked until dark and made plans to meet again the following day.”
“I still thought she was my age. We talked, but she carefully omitted any reference to age or school or anything that would give it away.”
“Because my brothers were so much older,” Janet continued, “I could talk like I was older than fourteen. They took me to movies that weren’t suitable, and I read books I found in their rooms. I thought I was hot stuff.”
“It was love at first sight for me,” Leo said and gazed at his wife with affection.
“We saw each other as often as I could sneak away,” Janet said. “Besides the library, I was supposed to be volunteering at the free clinic, and I had a girlfriend who would swear I was at her house. Leo rented a room in a commune house, and well, with all that freedom and lack of supervision, one thing led to another, and several months into our relationship we found ourselves in a family way.”
Harriet could see where this was going.
“So, your parents charged Leo with statutory rape?”
“And everything else they could come up with,” Leo said. “We were told we could never see each other again. Her parents didn’t want anything to do with our baby, but fortunately, my parents, bless their liberal hearts, went to court and were awarded custody of our son.”
Janet clapped her hands softly together.
“It was a stroke of genius, really. The courts allowed me visitation rights, which, of course, Leo’s parents happily agreed to. Leo was always the one who brought Bradley to our meetings after he got out of jail.”
“That must have been awful,” Lauren said, speaking for the first time.
“It wasn’t so bad. They let me serve in the county lockup, and I was out by the time our baby was born. They had vocational training, so I became a firefighter, and Janet’s parents sent her back to school. She graduated with honors from San Francisco State with a teaching degree. We did okay.”
“As soon as I was old enough, Leo and I got married. We moved first to Port Ludlow and then Foggy Point when Avanell hired him. We had three more boys, and everything was great until that business with Amber Price.”
Leo shook his head.
“Some reporter found out I’d turned her in to the police, and when he dug into my background, he found the statutory rape conviction, and that’s all he needed.”
“I’m sure you’ve probably heard the rest,” Janet said softly. “We moved out of Foggy Point, and then, when the boys were all away from home, we went to teach English in Thailand. A whole group of soon-to-be retired teachers were going, so we had friends, and it worked out.
“We’ve been living quietly under the radar for the last few years—which is why you won’t see my quilts on display anywhere around here.”
“Now, we’re sitting here waiting for the other shoe to drop,” Leo ended their tale.
“Thank you for sharing the truth with us,” Harriet said. “I can’t imagine how hard it’s been for you.”
Lauren sipped her lemonade and set her glass down on the coffee table.
“Just for the record, Beth told us you had been wronged, and that was enough for us.” She looked at Harriet, waiting for her to continue.
“What we came here to ask you is if you think Amber and Molly could have been victims of a traffic accident. When we heard that Amber wandered, we wondered if it was possible that someone hit the girls with a car, killing Amber and knocking Molly out. Maybe whoever hit them panicked and buried Amber in the woods, and when they realized Molly was still alive left her in the park where someone would find her.”
Janet and Leo looked at each other for a few moments. Leo rubbed his chin.
“I suppose it could have happened like that,” he said thoughtfully.
“The timing would have had to be perfect,” Janet added. “Traffic wasn’t like it is today, but there was a pretty steady flow. That’s why we finally called the police after we found Amber for the umpteenth time, wandering unsupervised. I won’t say it couldn’t have happened like that, though.”
Harriet chewed her lip.
“The problem is, how do we prove it?”
“I supposed that’s always the problem in this sort of situation,” Janet said.
They all picked up their glasses at the same time and laughed.
“What kind of quilting do you do?” Janet asked.
Lauren got out her tablet and called up pictures of her latest quilt and, with a little looking, found one of Harriet’s, too. Leo went outside to work in the garden, and the women talked about quilting through another glass of lemonade.